


Untamed Heart

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-30
Updated: 2006-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-29 19:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10142783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: When the son of a billionaire takes an interest in a small town farm boy, will their relationship be doomed to fail even before its begun? Alternate Universe. Non-magic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**Title:** Untamed Heart   
**Author:** Prentice   
**Email:** slyprentice(at)yahoo(dot)com   
**Pairing:** Harry/Draco   
**Rating:** NC17; Fan Rated Adults Only (FRAO)  
 **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.   
**Warnings:** This story is based in an alternate universe wherein there is no magic.   
**Genre:** Slash; Alternate Universe  
 **Authors Note:** This story will be subject to rewrites every now and again seeing as that this is one of the two stories I consider my "baby" so please, any helpful suggestions you may have are more than welcome.  
 **Summary:** When the son of a billionaire takes an interest in a small town farm boy, will their relationship be doomed to fail even before its begun?

 

**Chapter 1 - Untamed Heart**

Draco Malfoy had never been a patient young man. He wasn’t brought up to be patient. He was brought up to be a Malfoy; plain and simple. So when the mechanic at the local garage told him it would take at least two days to fix his broken down Nimbus 2001 GT, he was furious. 

“Goddamn hicks.” Draco muttered disgustedly, stepping out into the oppressive midday heat. Though it was barely the middle of March a stifling heat wave had set in on most of Hogsmeade and it’s surrounding areas; much to the displeasure of young Malfoy Jr. 

Having spent most of his young life traveling across Europe and Asia with his mother and father on various business trips, he was used to most any weather the world could throw at him but, none-the-less, Draco despised the heat. It always made him get nasty red blotches on his face and, worse yet, his hair would lay limply, making the hour he spent each morning styling it to perfection go down the proverbial drain. Yes, he most definitely despised the heat. 

His haggard appearance was only serving to irritate him further. A Malfoy was meant to look distinguished, his father always reminded him, they were not to look like a sweating pig. Leave that to the locals. 

“Damn hicks.” Draco muttered again, squinting behind his newly bought three-hundred galleon designer sunglasses to gaze around the small town he was now, appallingly enough, stuck in. 

It wasn’t much to look at. _At all._ His lips twisted. 

After a long infuriating evening spent at Hogsmeade International, a case of jet lag and a rather long winded conversation with his mother that had - incidentally - lasted half the night, he had been unable to catch his father in the morning due to the much needed sleeping-in he had done. Which, incidentally, had only left him with one option: leave the manor and try to catch the man between business meetings. It was a long-shot, to be sure - his father was appallingly busy these days - but Draco had left the comfortably cool confines of his bedroom on the off chance that there would be time for a brief word between father and son. 

Thus, with a single-minded determination, that his mother assured him he got completely from his father and it was aptly named stubbornness, he had set off in his cherished Nimbus 2001, not counting on - not even dreaming of - stopping in this one horse town. In fact, if his Nimbus hadn’t started acting up half-way through the trip he probably wouldn’t have known of this town’s existence. It was, after all, just scenery for him and he rarely, if ever, paid attention to anything other than where he was going and how long it would take to get there. To take notice of a town such as this would have been laughable and completely unlike the Draco most people knew. 

After all, this was just another dot on the map between the Malfoy Manor and the Metropolis that was known as Hogsmeade. This place was nothing. It was Nowhere, with a capital ‘N‘.

“If you’re looking for somewhere to go,” a voice called, breaking into his musings, “you might want to try the Leaky Cauldron, mister. It just right over there.” 

Draco couldn‘t help but scowl, valiantly resisting the temptation to flip the pointing mechanic a very crude hand signal. “Aren’t you suppose to be working on my car?” 

“I told you, I can’t fix it until--”

“Yes, yes, yes.” The blonde cut in, waving the man’s comment away as though it were nothing.” I heard you the first time.” 

He shook his head, blonde wisps of hair brushing his forehead. What good was having a mechanic if the man obviously couldn’t fix any-bloody-thing?

_‘I should feel lucky.’_ He thought shrewdly. _’I won’t have to stay here too long and, at least, he can call the damnable part in to fix her.’_

The very last thing that he wanted, or needed, was to stay in this town for any longer than absolutely necessary. He was a on the go young man; there were places he needed to be, things he needed to be doing. As it were, he wouldn’t have rushed out of the manor if he hadn’t been counting on talking to his father before the man flew to Peru in hopes of closing a business deal by their evening meal and be back in time to take his mother to _Le Petit Château_ , her favorite excursion spot, in the morning. 

Grunting softly in irritation, he blinked sweat out of his eyes. Well, there was nothing he could do about the situation now but make the best of it. Turning back to face the mechanic, he tried not to wrinkle his nose at the over powering stench of motor oil, solvent and Merlin only knows what else that clung to him.

“Is there a pay phone around here?” He queried impatiently. Perhaps if he called his father’s secretary, Juliann, he would be able to get her to send a tow truck or, at the very least, send someone from the company to pick him up. 

It shouldn’t be too hard a feat. That empty-headed twit had been panting after him since her first day at Malfoy Enterprises, when he had accidentally walked in on her giving a blowjob to one of his father’s business associates. Not that the man in question had minded. Nor she. 

But since that moment she had been out to catch Draco. Exactly why that was, he wasn’t sure but she certainly stopped at nothing. She would even go so far as to hike up her skirt when he was in the same room so he could get a good, long look at the little lacy panties she wore. 

It was too bad for her she was about as good looking as a dead cat and Draco wouldn’t have touched her with a ten-foot pole even if he were paid to. But, like every other minion in his father’s business, she served her purpose. Besides, he was sure this would thrill her to pieces being able to do one simple thing for him. Even if it didn’t involve having her legs in the air. 

“No, sir. No pay phones. But like I said, you might want to try the Leaky Cauldron. The bartender Tom will probably let you use his phone.” The man said before turning and disappearing back into the shadows of the tiny garage. 

Draco’s scowl deepened. 

_‘Fucking small-town asshole.’_ He hissed irritably to himself as he turned to look back around the town. There wasn’t much to it. For his standards anyway. 

Most of the town, as far as he could tell, was made up of town-owned stores and “brothels”, if that‘s what you could call them. Merlin knew Draco wouldn’t attempt to even call them anything else. Among them, he could see plainly the Leaky Cauldron, which looked to be a particular favorite to the locals if the number of people who came and went was any indication. 

_‘Might as well get this abomination over with.’_ He thought, stepping off the small curb and making his way across the street, not even bothering to check for cross traffic. _‘Traffic? In this town? Yeah, right.’_ Draco snorted. 

He very much doubted that this town had any traffic from the locals much less from someone passing through. Hell, he wouldn’t have even been passing through if it wasn’t for the fact that this was the quickest route to where he needed to be. Most people, himself included, stuck to the more traveled thoroughfares instead of these back roads, even if it did add an extra hour to your trip. 

But, even as he took the few final steps to the other side of the road, the rickety sound of an old truck filled his ears, making him cast a cursory glance over his shoulder. Just on the horizon, an old beat up pick-up truck came careening down the road. It’s grinding gears rattling noisily. 

‘ _Probably another good ol’ boy .’_ Draco reflected, unable to keep a grimace from creasing his lips. A true-blue country bumpkin was the last thing he needed. He’d had quite enough for one day.

Stepping into the shade with another sigh, Draco watched as the truck came to a groaning halt a few meters away. It’s engine died with cough. A glittering bead of sweat trickled down his forehead while he watched behind the tint of his glasses as the passenger side door swung open with a protesting squeak. 

“Are you happy, Ron?! You could have killed us!” A girl screeched from inside the cab moments before she slipped out. The blonde wrinkled his nose. She wasn’t much too look at; just another country bumpkin with a pair of overalls on and two bushy braided pig tails. She looked exactly of what you would expect when thoughts of farm girl popped into your head. 

It was revolting.

_‘No wonder I stick to city life.’_ He mused distastefully, eyes drifting to the driver’s side of the truck on their own accord. 

He couldn’t help but snicker. Red haired and freckled faced, a boy of roughly Draco’s own age climbed out from behind the steering wheel. A large dirt smudge streaked along the side of his nose, making his freckles all the more apparent. His face gleamed in the sun, flushed with sweat and no doubt stinking to high heaven. 

Unconsciously, Draco took a step back as though not to be caught in downwind. It was bad enough having to smell that garage, he would not be subjected to the stench of some farm hand. Ugh.

_‘And here, no doubt, is the good ol’ boy.’_ He thought even as he eyed the other boy. Dressed in jeans bleached practically white from the sun and a fading tee shirt, he looked every inch the ‘good ol’ boy’ Draco had been waiting to see. It didn’t help matters much that there were grass stains on the boy’s jeans and dried mud under his fingernails. That alone was enough to make Draco thankful for the hours his mother spent drilling into him fashion and hygiene tips when he was younger. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, ‘Moine.” The red haired boy replied, rolling his eyes. A hand came up to tug at his tee shirt, pulling it away from sweat-soaked skin and fanning it in and out. “I wasn’t driving that fast.”

“Oh yes you were, Ronald Weasley!” The girl shouted, drawing Draco’s eyes back towards her, morbidly fascinated by the scene laid out before him. It wasn’t often that he saw normal run-of-the-mill people such as these going about their lives. Years spent under his father’s demanding tutelage had jaded him into seeing cool, aloft and collected individuals, whom would just as soon hire someone to stab you in the back as they would shake your hand. Being able to see this was somewhat like a child visiting the zoo for the first time; interested, disgusted, amused and repelled. 

However, before Draco’s eyes could make it back to the girl, his stopped dead. 

“ _Bloody hell._ ” He breathed, eyes widening.

There, just in the bed of the truck, was a second young man. A gorgeous young man. Lean, tanned arm muscles rippled as he maneuvered a box over the side of the truck bed wall and into the girls waiting grasp. A murmur of voices, a breathtaking smile and the boy was letting the box go and wiping long nimble fingers against denim. 

Draco licked his lips, tasting the saltiness of his own perspiration. He took a step forward. Fingers twitched against his side, rubbing against the soft khaki of his own pants. 

This boy - this man - was **stunning**.

Shaggy hair the color of night shinned under the sun’s stifling rays causing a small halo shine above the boy’s head. Perfectly round glasses encased a flawlessly smooth face that was flushed with the heat. A light sheen of sweat could be seen glowing on the boy’s skin. His lithe body was incased in soft denim jeans, faded but not bleached, accompanied with a worn tee shirt that had the logo for **PLATFORM 9 ¾** , the hottest club in Diagon Alley, on it. 

‘ _He’s got some taste, at least…’_ Draco mused stupidly, watching as the boy jumped smoothly over the side of the truck-bed wall and landed easily on the pavement. _‘I wonder what his name is…’_

“Well c’mon then. Don’t just stand there all day.” The girl snapped, moving around the back of the truck and shoving the package to the red-headed before turning on her heels and walking towards a store across the street. Draco blinked, belatedly realizing it must be some sort of herbal shop. At least, that’s what it looked like from his vantage point . He couldn’t be sure. Despite this being a small town, there could always be one or two places around that weren’t what they appeared to be. 

A sudden electric prickling raced down his spine. Someone was staring at him, he could feel it. And, there was only one person it could be... 

Draco’s eyes snapped back to the truck. Through the tint of his glasses, his eyes locked with the raven haired boy’s own. 

He couldn’t help but gasp. 

Those eyes. Perfectly emerald and so deep he felt as though he could fall into them forever. They burned into him with such intensity he felt his insides flutter with appreciation. Without thought, he was taking a step back out into the sunlight and had taken two more before he could stop himself. 

He swallowed thickly, looking away but not before he saw the ghost of a smile grace the other boy‘s lips. Sweet Merlin, what had gotten into him? His eyes flicked back for a second, the boy’s lips were still curled into a small smile.

‘ _Oh god, those lips…’_ He moaned silently to himself. Red as crushed cherries and supple as silk.

“Harry? You coming, mate?” 

Draco fought down the urge to snarl at the red-haired boy for interrupting. He had just begun to fantasize about all the delicious ways he could bruise those pretty lips; make them open wide as the boy screamed his name. He shuddered. Fuck.

Curling his fingers against his sides, Draco let his eyes shift back to the other boy, watching for a strained moment as their gazes met. But just as quickly as they did, the boy’s eyes shifted away from him. Draco wanted to scream in despair. Those eyes needed to be on him, not that damn red head. 

But, before Draco could muster it inside himself, those eyes were back on him, jade with curiosity. 

The boy’s smile grew slightly. 

Draco took another step forward, making sure to make the movement as graceful as possible. 

‘ _Harry. His name’s Harry.’_ Draco thought, delighting in the way the other boy‘s eyes tracked his movements. Bone deep pleasure shot through the blonde as he saw the tiny smile on the boy’s lips grow further still. 

Unable, or unwilling, to stop himself, Draco took another step forward, stopping himself short as the other boy spoke for the first time. 

“No. No, I don’t think I will. I’ll meet you both in the Cauldron.” He said, eyes never wavering from Draco’s own. His voice was as sweet as honey.

“Oh, okay. See you there.” Ron said, completely missing the tension that was starting to thicken the air as he turned and hurried to catch up with the girl. She was already waiting somewhat impatiently for him at the door of the store. 

Another bead of sweat slide down the back of Draco’s neck as he stared at the other boy. He watched in hazed fascination as the boy licked his chapped lips unconsciously before he cast one last look at his friend‘s, whom were now disappearing into the coolness of the shop. 

‘ _Please’_ Draco thought ‘ _Please just get your ass over here and talk to me.’_

And then the boy was, moving towards Draco with a determined look on his face and a glint in his eye that made Draco want to give a ‘whoop’ of delight.


	2. Chapter 2

**  
**

Chapter 2

When Harry had accepted the invitation to go to town with the two of his closest friends, he hadn’t expected anything interesting to happen. After all, this was just Little Whinging, the dullest town on the map. The most exciting thing that had happened in this town since as far as Harry could remember was when one of the locals went to Hogsmeade for a vacation or - and this hadn’t happened since Ron’s older brother Bill had come to visit last time - someone actually got to _see_ Diagon Alley. Which was something that rarely, if ever, happened for anyone in this town. 

Diagon Alley was the pinnacle of the rich and the famous. To even been seen _near_ it, a person had to have a certain amount of money and a hell of a lot of style; both of which would serve to get them, _perhaps_ , a nod-in from some of the “lower” class establishments along the Alley. Not that Ron’s brother Bill had any such accoutrements, his income wasn’t even one tenth of what someone would need and his sense of style bordered on the bizarre rather than the fashionable, but he did work for Gringotts, one of the largest bank chains in the world. 

Despite the fact that Harry couldn’t say for sure what it was that Bill did for the bank, he did know that the man was occasionally sent to glamorous places, the likes of which most people could only ever dream about, and conduct business. On many instances, the teen would allow himself to imagine what it might be like in Bill’s shoes; to be able to see the bright lights and beautiful people. To be allowed to speak with them, to be a part of their circle, if not just for a moment. It was wonderful. More than wonderful. 

Perhaps that was why it always seemed to be a full-town event whenever Bill came to visit; so many people had the same pipe-dreams that they would one day be one of those ‘beautiful‘ people. That someone, somewhere, would be dreaming about being _them._ Which really was a rather sad thing if one were to think about it for too long but most people didn’t. Not even Harry.

But that aside, Bill did have a somewhat garnered popularity in the town. As did another one of Ron’s older brothers‘, Charlie. The ‘welcome home’ parties for that particular brother were always overwhelming, mostly due to the things that Charlie managed to bring with him. Harry still could not remember all the thing he had done the night of the last one after he had sampled something which Charlie had said was ‘Romanian Black, the best liquor in the eastern hemisphere‘. The party had been nearly a year ago. 

_  
_

‘I suppose it’s probably for the best.’ He mused even as he watched the scenery roll by. It wasn’t much to look at; just an occasional tree and a mind-boggling amount of farm land. Most definitely one of the dullest sites to be seen but, at the very least, it was home. _‘At least I’m not living with my relatives anymore.’_

A shudder ran through him at the thought. 

Harry had only been a year old when he’d been moved in with his relatives, Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley. It had been after his parents had died in a car crash, or so his uncle and aunt had told him. He hadn’t so much had a reason to doubt this and was marginally thankful that his parents hadn’t consciously left him with his relatives.

Living with his aunt, uncle, and annoying cousin had, from the very beginning, been a practice in self control and anger management. Every day, they had all pushed Harry to his limit until he was sure he was going to snap. The temptation to punch one of them in their face was almost overwhelming at times. That is, until he had become best friend’s with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. 

Ron had lived in the town for most of his life. He was part of one of the families whose ancestry, amazingly, almost lead back to the very founding of it. Everyone knew his name and everyone was his friend. The few people who couldn’t claim a close friends with him thought of him as their little brother since, in fact, he had five older brothers and one little sister. Harry and Ron had been friends since they were both eleven, despite the fact that Harry’s relatives rarely let him out the house and when they did it was usually just to weed or deadhead the garden.

Then there was Hermione, who had moved to Little Whinging just a short while ago with her parents, the resident dentists of the town. She was unlike anyone Ron or Harry had ever met before; which was probably the reason why his friend was so in love with her, despite his denial of it. She had moved from Hogsmeade to Little Whinging when her parents had decided that city life just wasn’t the right place to raise a growing girl. And despite the extreme change, Hermione had taken to small town living like a duck to water. Which was why, Harry supposed, he owed both of them such a great deal. 

Less than a year ago, when things were just beginning to truly become horrible in his relatives household, Harry had been able to, with Ron and Hermione‘s help, save enough money to move out for good. Which, incidentally, was a blessing in a blessing since they had “unexpectedly” decided to move two days later. The move hadn’t been a exciting one - after all, he’d only lugged his few precious possessions into a semi-cheap flat - but it was more than enough for him. It wasn’t long after that he had managed to procure a job part time job at The Leaky Cauldron.

Being a dish washer and bus boy wasn’t attractive in any sense of the word but it kept the rent paid and the groceries stocked, which was more than he could say for some of the other jobs he’d had over the years.

_  
_

‘Yeah. Like Uncle Vernon said “ the world needs ditch-diggers too, boy,” Harry thought disgustedly. 

At seventeen years old, he was hardly a world famous movie-star but he still liked to think of himself a little higher up the food chain than a ditch digger. Not that there was anything wrong with that particular profession but--

_  
_

‘I want something more than that.’ He mused, bracing himself against the side of the truck as it dipped into yet another pot-hole along the worn road. What the ‘more’ Harry wanted was, he couldn’t say, but whatever it was, he could sure in the hell guarantee it was more than what his relatives thought he would get. It was more than what most people thought he could get. 

Although he was well liked around the small town of Little Whinging - no thanks to his relatives - Harry knew that the town viewed him as a fixture. Someone who would never leave the clutches of open farm land. Someone who would always be there if they needed a helping hand. That was the life he had fell into even before he had moved out onto his own.

While in their clutches, his relatives had tried to paint him to be a insane and no-good miscreant; going so far as to tell one and all that he was going to be attending St. Brutus Secure Center For Incurably Criminal Boys during the school year if he didn’t clean up his act. It didn’t matter that Harry had not done a thing to deserve such a punishment or that he was normally viewed to be a nice, polite young man. No, it didn’t matter at all. Uncle Vernon simply enjoyed seeing Harry squirm and bite the inside of his cheek raw to keep from screaming in frustration. 

To compensate for the horrible image his relations created of him, Harry had taken on the role of being polite and respectful. He hardly ever got into trouble lest someone actually believed in his aunt and uncle’s stories even though trouble seemed to follow him like a dark cloud. That was hardly an issue, however, since it hadn’t taken long for the town in general to latch onto Harry with a fierceness that startled him to no end.

Harry is such a good boy, he helps everyone. Harry can help you, he always does. Harry will probably be around later, he’s _always_ around later.

And, therein, lay the problem: he had become a fixture; the town totem. No one expected anything grand of him. Not because he was incapable, oh no, Harry Potter was capable of anything…as long as it was in the town. Or, at least, that was what it felt like. 

No one ever dreamed of him leaving. Ever.

Harry couldn’t stand the thought of never leaving just as much as he couldn’t help but feel that there was something more out there for him. Something fantastic and wonderful. Something greater than the back room of The Cauldron and his musty flat above it. 

A sigh escaped the boy‘s lips. There really wasn’t a use in dwelling on such depressing thoughts right now. They would do him no good. He’d just have to make sure that his life changed when he had gathered enough money to do it or when the opportunity presented itself.

Casting a quick glance over his shoulder to see where they were, Harry placed one hand on top of the package that Ron was trying his best to make fly out of the bed of the truck. Inside, Harry knew was a care package from Ron’s mother, Molly, to Regina Sprout, the local herbalist and one of Hermione’s hero. Apparently, poor Regina had come down with a nasty case of the flu but Harry had a sneaking suspicion that her unexpected close-up-shop-sick-week had more to do with the fact that Regina’s old beau, Barty Crouch was in town visiting. 

_  
_

‘I don’t understand what she sees in the old goat. He’s just so smarmy.’ Harry thought, remembering the first time he had ever met the man. He had been minding the bar of the Cauldron for Tom, when old Barty had burst in sloshed talking about needing a good drink or a good fight. Whichever came first. He’d had to tackle the old dodger just to get him stop throwing punches in the air at anybody who passed by him. 

_  
_

‘I wonder how Mrs. Figg’s eye is doing…’ The boy mused distractedly as he felt the truck suddenly begin to accelerate. That meant one of two things: either they were getting close to town or Ron had lost control of the truck -- again. 

_  
_

‘I really need to start driving us.’ He thought wearily as he struggled to keep his glasses from slipping off his nose. Sometimes it seemed as though Ron expected the truck to just drive itself. _‘I’d probably have less bruises if it did.’_

Not that Harry was one to talk since he had yet to receive his driver’s license. A person had to actually _know_ how to drive to get it, he had found out, and though Harry wasn’t above asking for some lesson from Ron or Hermione’s parents, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of having to explain to the local uppity transportation officials why he was getting a license but had no car. Which they were sure to ask, though he didn’t have a clue why since it wasn’t really any of their business. Probably because of the curse of any relatively small town; everyone knew everyone else’s business, like it or not.

However, as it were, Harry had thankfully found that he was able to hitch a ride easily enough from one of the locals or just take the sickle-bus, as it Ron had deemed it, since the driver insisted that Harry only pay a sickle a ride because he used it so much, to where he was going; which was never very far due to the fact that most of what the town had to offer was concentrated in one single area, on one single road. And, for most of the town citizens, that was okay; that was perfect. People never had to go far for anything they needed because it was just right there.

For Harry, it was a nightmare. 

_  
_

‘Same shit, different day.’ He mourned silently, gripping the side of the truck. Everyone who lived in the town had long past given up on something interesting happening and the quiet living suited them better. After the war was over, people around Little Whinging glorified in the mundane and simple. It was the nature of the beast, Harry supposed. Small towns weren’t exactly known a wild pits of sin and debauchery. Not that **that** was what Harry was looking for but it would be nice to have something to do besides hanging out at the Cauldron, the place he worked, on a Friday evening. 

“Oi! Harry! Hold on!” Ron’s voice bellowed from inside the cab of the truck.

The boy in question grimaced, curling his fingers tighter against the side of the truck and bracing his feet against the bed. He couldn’t help but let out a yelp as the truck gave a large jerk, slamming his shoulder painfully against the side of the truck. Moments later, familiar buildings came into his view: The Leaky Cauldron, Sprout’s Herbal Shop, the all-night grocer, and a few other small town necessities. 

_  
_

‘Just enough to make sure you never have to leave this damn place.’ Harry mused, pressing his shoulder against the side of the truck to keep from getting another bruise. It was true that the town was small and out of the way but it had all the amenities that it needed for the populace to survive. 

A hiss of pain escaped Harry’s lips as his head slammed back against the truck wall even as the old clunker came to a rather screeching halt. The smell of motor oil and burnt rubber permeated the air as the vehicle gave a loud banging cough, spilling a small black puff of smoke into the air. A final, backward jerk almost sent Harry sprawling onto the truck bed. 

Blinking blearily, he tried to shake the flashing spots from his vision and gave a small cough of his own. He could already hear Hermione chastising Ron for his driving, just like she always did. Some things were never going to change. Why the girl didn’t just drive herself, Harry would never know.

“Are you happy, Ron?! You could have killed us!” Hermione screeched, the sound of the door opening and her angry clattering barely heard. Harry rolled his eyes beneath his glasses. Hermione would really never change. She always said the same thing.

Turning his head so he could see Ron, he cracked a small smile. The red head was already glancing back at him, the ‘why me?’ set of his features clear through the back window. Some things would **definitely** never change. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, ‘Moine.” Ron replied, slipping out of the truck. Harry’s smile slipped slightly as another sigh escaped his lips. It was so bloody hot now that the truck was stopped. He hadn’t noticed before, he’d been too busy holding on for dear life. 

Pushing his glasses farther up his nose, the boy pealed himself from the bed, running his hand through his wind swept hair, trying to no avail to tame it. With another sigh of irritation, he leaned down and grabbed the package. 

“You don’t think Ron’s driving might have broken something in it, do you Harry?” Hermione asked, reaching her arms out to take the package from him.

Harry shrugged. “Maybe.” ‘ _Not like I care_.’

Waiting till he was sure that his friend had a good grip on the package, he wiped his fingers on his jeans before bracing a hand on the side and jumping over to land with a soft thump. He really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of Hermione’s yelling sprees if something was broke. He’d been at the end of one once, _once_ , and that had been more than enough.

“Well, come on then, don’t just stand there all day.” Hermione snapped as soon as Ron had rounded the truck, shoving the package into his arms before hurrying off into the direction of Sprout’s shop. His friend rolled his eyes, giving a put-upon sigh and began to follow. Harry shook his head, a smile tugging his lips. Those two already acted like a married couple and they weren’t even dating. Yet.

It was all a matter of time. Harry knew even if the two of them didn’t. Well, maybe Hermione knew but Harry was fairly positive that Ron was still oblivious. That’s just the way that Ron was, though. He always seemed to be the last one to figure out what was going on when it concerned the three of them.

Taking a deep breath of the hot dry air, Harry let his eyes roam over the town. So different but yet the same, day in and day out. It was a comfort and a hindrance for him. Many times he had dreamed of leaving this town and all it’s various occupants behind; living the glamorous life on some shore side mansion, getting suits tailored in Madame Milkin’s shop, cruising Diagon Alley with all the upper crust of society. Actually relaxing backstage in **Platform 9 ¾** while his band tuned up on stage waiting for him.

That was definitely what dreams were made of. 

Abruptly, a scuffing noise to his right drew Harry’s attention, making his shoulders tense in anticipation. Who would it be…? Someone asking a favor…? One of his friends just saying hello…? 

It was neither. 

Harry stifled a gasp, mouth going dry. There, just a few meters away, almost within reach, was a young man; an _exquisite_ young man.No more than a year older than Harry himself, if looks were to be believed, who stood watching Harry’s friend’s retreating backs just in the shade, the light flush of his cheeks making it apparent that the shade only helped marginally from the scorching heat.

_  
_

‘He’s definitely not from around here.’ The raven-haired boy considered, taking in the pressed designer button down shirt, rumbled khakis trousers and delicate sunglasses the perched on the bridge of the boy’s nose. The other man’s clothes weren’t the only obvious signs to how badly out of place the young man was; the cool confidence and flutter of arrogance that hung over him like a second skin made his whole presence scream that he didn’t belong here. The boy was like a ball of sparkling brightness in a town full of dirt mounds. 

Forcing himself to swallow past the lump in his throat, Harry found the need to find out who this boy was, why he was here and, most importantly, how long he’d be staying almost overpowering. He _had_ to know. There were no two ways about it. Without realizing it, the bespectacled boy began to take a step towards the alluring and breathtaking creature. 

_  
_

‘Just one look…just one…’ He promised himself, taking a long delicious look at those ivory-cream features that were flushed red from the sun. It made Harry’s stomach do an odd little somersault. 

Notwithstanding the fact that the sun was making his skin burn and sweat like he was locked in a sauna, the other boy looked, for lack of a better term, _cool_. The soft skin of his cheeks had rosy tints that made Harry’s chest flutter. The boy’s blonde hair shimmered white in the sunlight and Harry could almost imagine how soft it would be. The boy’s lips, that even from this distance looked delicate and soft, were held open in a small “O” as he gave short pants of breath in and out. 

Harry shifted, his jeans suddenly uncomfortably tight as he continued his inspection. The boy’s eyes were hidden behind the reflective glass off designer sunglasses but hewould have bet a week’s paycheck that they would be steely gray underneath. He wasn’t sure why or how, but he just knew they would be.

Taking a shaky breath in, he tried to control the urge to run to the boy and just -- just--

_  
_

‘Oh damn…’ Harry thought as the other boy, as if in slow motion, felt Harry’s eyes on him and turned to look. His breath caught in his throat.

This boy was -- bewitching with his tailored clothes, expensive sunglasses and alluring physique. He practically breathed wealth and power. Endlessly.

Holding the boys gaze, his curiosity overriding his sense of politeness, Harry barely noticed the time that passed. This, **this** was exactly what Harry had always been waiting for. This boy who made fear and longing coil in his stomach almost to the point of making him dizzy with hunger, with need, with _something_ he couldn‘t quite name.

Harry felt his stomach clench. The other boy was moving, one step, two. He stopped, an indiscernible look flashing over his features. Instinctively, a shy smile formed on Harry’s lips, a flush crawling over his cheeks. The moment it did, he was more than thankful. His smile seemed to make the other boy sway forward another step. 

_  
_

‘That’s it. Just a few more steps…’

“Harry? You coming, mate?”

Harry jerked, blinking rapidly as his eyes flickered away to his friends and then back, his smile still firmly in place. That seemed to wrench another step out of the boy. A unexpected grin blossomed on his lips.

“No. No, I don’t think I will. I’ll meet you both at the Cauldron.” He called, unable to tear his gaze away a second time.

“Oh, okay. See you there.” His friend said, moving off towards Hermione. Harry hardly noticed, so intent was he on the blonde. Minutes passed as he waited for the other boy to move, to speak, to do _something_ , but he didn’t.

_  
_

‘Guess it’s my move…’ Harry deliberated. Taking a deep breath, the raven haired boy began to move towards the blonde, heart pounding in his chest.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note:** I'm sorry for the long delay in updating this. I've been away from fan fiction for quite some time but I'll definitely be giving updates again now that things have settled down! Cheers!

\------  
 **Chapter 3**

As a Malfoy, Draco had found that nowadays very little could excite him. After all, when you had the world at your finger tips at any time of day, well, lets just say the glamour and glitz was taken out of it very rapidly. Not that he didn’t still appreciate the fact that at any time, day or night, he could get what he wanted, whatever he wanted. That’s what being a Malfoy meant that. 

No one _**ever**_ refused you. **No one**.

Which was why Draco now knew that this boy, with emerald eyes and cherry balm lips, was going to be his. One way or another. Harry was going to belong to him. 

The blonde suppressed a shiver of anticipation as he watched the other boy move towards him, a natural liquid grace in his movements that Draco himself had never possessed. It was a grace that screamed that the boy was not only comfortable with himself but with the people around him. It was a grace that Draco couldn’t help but wonder if he could make falter after one night of non-stop pleasure?

Draco felt his stomach clench. Merlin, he could almost feel those long legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into the boy. See the way the boy would scream his name and thrash beneath him as he came for the first of many times that night.

Fuck. 

Draco shifted, trying his best to adjust himself in his khakis without being to noticeable. He didn’t want to scare this angel off even before he had the chance to speak to him. 

‘ _He’s so beautiful’_ Draco mused, eyes tracking the other boy‘s steps. _‘How can something so beautiful be living **here**?’_

Draco didn’t know. Didn’t dare to think, as a matter of fact, since now the boy had stopped half a meter away and was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Almost as if he were waiting for Draco to tell him to go away. It wouldn’t happen, not in a billion damn years. 

_‘Don’t be afraid baby. Just open those beautiful lips and talk to me._ ’ Draco encouraged mentally, lifting one hand casually to brush a strand of damp blonde hair from his forehead. Harry tracked Draco’s movements steadily, as if he were the prey watching the predator for any signs of an attack. Draco’s stomach did another flip. If Harry was the kind of prey that Draco could catch, he’d be the predator every time.

Sweat trickled down the side of his face and down his jaw causing him to fight back a scowl as Harry’s eyes followed the movement. God, why did it have to be so damn hot here? Sweat was probably pouring off of him in buckets and his hair felt plastered to his head. 

Harry, on the other hand, just stood there, a luscious flush covering his golden tanned skin. Sweat glowing on his skin but not dripping like himself. He probably looked a mess.

_‘Well there is nothing you can do about it now.’_ He chided himself, watching the other boy shift nervously before stuffing both of his hands into the soft denim pockets of his blue jeans. Draco sighed. If only those where his hands…

Suddenly, the other boy cleared his throat, jerking the blonde out of his own thoughts. Harry flashed a shy smile. It was enough to make Draco feel a tingle of excited amusement run through him. This was it. The boy was going to speak…

“You lost?” Harry asked quietly, his voice carrying the short distance in but a whisper. Draco’s stomach fluttered in delight. That voice…that god damn voice…

“Actually I was fixing to go to the Leaky Cauldron.” He replied smoothly, years of learning how to be calm and collected coming to the forefront as he watched the boy‘s eyes flicker with surprise. “The mechanic told me there was a phone there…?” He explained, making his comment half statement and half question. 

“Ah.” The other boy murmured, his eyes flickering down to the walkway before he looked back to Draco with another small smile. “Afraid the natives bite, huh?” 

A startled laugh bubbled out of Draco as he watched the other boy’s eyes glitter with amusement as his mouth curled into a crooked smile. Merlin. Draco’s mouth went dry.

‘ _God that mouth is going to be the death of me…’_

“You could say that.” He chuckled, once again brushing a stray lock of hair from off his forehead. How he wished he had dressed differently today. Maybe in that brand new outfit Madame Milkin had designed for him just last week. Fuck that outfit made him look good. If only he had worn it today!

But how was he to know that he’d end up meeting such a beautiful creature like Harry? The few people he knew he would have ended up running in to, he didn’t want to impress or dazzle. His father, for one, would probably approve of his outfit, if not a little begrudgingly since it wasn’t one of the more risqué outfits he owned. His father’s business partners wouldn’t give a damn and Juliann...Hell, he could walk into the building wearing a trash bag and Juliann would probably throw herself on the desk, spread her legs and beg him. 

Draco swallowed thickly, images of this sweet angel in front of him, spread out for him popping into his mind unbidden. Sweet Merlin, he really needed to get a hold of his libido. It was bad enough he was testing his own limits of his control but to do it in front of Harry...

“So…” The raven haired boy began, shuffling his feet somewhat nervously. Draco couldn‘t help but smile. He’d never had a lover who was shy before. 

Oh sure, he’d had lovers who pretended to be coy and chaste but they had all been fake. He had known it and they had known that he knew it. Not that that had ever stopped him from taking them to bed with him. Blaise, for instance, was a perfect example of that.

A family friend for more years than Draco cared to admit, the boy all but threw himself at every wealthy man or woman who came his way. Draco included. And Draco, like so many others before him, had indulged Blaise by taking him into an alley way behind one of the clubs he frequented and screwing him before going back into the club to dance and sweat off the boy’s stench. 

Plus, taking all those different men and women into his bed had pissed off his father to no end. Which was one of the things that Draco prided himself on. His father was a half-way decent man when he wanted to be but he liked absolute control over everything and Draco wasn’t going to give his father the satisfaction.

“So” Harry began, once again snapping Draco out of his thoughts as he took a hand from out of his pocket and brushed it through his hair. “Want some company to the Cauldron?”

Draco felt another, larger, smile curl his lips. “I’d love some.” He said, watching as a blush crept up the boys face. 

“Follow me.” The boy murmured after a moment, turning and starting a leisurely walk towards the Leaky Cauldron. Draco couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down the boys body. Oh yes, the boy would definitely be his.

_‘I’ll make sure of it._ ’ He promised his self, taking in the almost feminine swing of the raven haired boy’s hips. The jeans the boy wore rode low on his hips, giving the blonde a clear view of the caramel skin of Harry’s back on every second step. Draco shuddered. 

_‘Bollocks. I can’t believe I’m lusting after the boy’s back.’_ He mused, hurrying to catch up as the other boy looked over his shoulder at him.

“Sorry. It’s just so hot.” Draco explained easily, once he was walking side by side with the other boy. Harry flashed him a relaxed smile and shrugged, muscles rippling beneath his skin with the small movement.

“It’s always like this, this time of year. It’s not so bad when you get used to it.” He responded, pushing his glasses up his nose with his fingertips

Draco nodded. He knew how that was. With all the times his family had moved around he had had to get used to some of the strangest climates there was. From snow and ice every day to rain and humidity. But still, the heat here was scorching in a way he couldn‘t remember feeling before. It was so hot that the back of his legs burned with each step he took and the soles of his feet were uncomfortably warm. Perhaps, though, it was the company he was in that made his insides feel as if they were on fire.

“How long have you lived here?” The blonde found himself asking, blinking slightly in surprise. It had been years since he’d participated in anything remotely close to small talk that didn’t revolve around him manipulating or seducing the other party into either telling what he wanted to know or ending up with a bed partner for the night. But, that wasn’t what surprised him, what had was the fact that he truly was -- interested. 

He wanted to get to know Harry. Draco’s stomach clenched in apprehension. What the fuck was he thinking? Was he out of his mind? Hadn’t he learned his lesson two years ago?

Draco shook his head. He didn’t have time to think about that now. Glancing over, he noticed the tight look on the boy’s face and back tracked in his mind, trying to decide if he’d said something again without realizing. He hadn’t. 

“You don’t have to answer that if you--” He began but Harry blinked, shaking his head and smiled.

“No, no sorry. I was just thinking. I’ve lived here most of my life.” Harry responded, again flashing a smile at Draco. 

Draco stared for a moment, watching the way the boy tried to make light of the answer but there was no mistaking the bitterness that had tinted the last words. 

_‘I’m going to have to remember that.’_ The blonde thought, categorizing the moment to ask about later. Perhaps after he had made love with the boy for the first time. Draco froze, fear slamming into him as he stumbled a step before catching himself.

_‘Made love? Hell! I hardly know him!_ ’ His mental voice warned panicked. But Draco’s eyes locked on the boy’s hips again. The gentle back and forth swing of them and the smooth swish where the material of his shirt and jeans rubbed against the bronze skin. 

_‘Yes, made love.’_ Another voice spoke up. _‘That’s the only way it will be with this boy. It won’t be quick and hard. It’ll be sweet and slow and make your entire body ache.’_

Draco shuddered.

_‘He’s not like that bitch. She was a manipulative whore. This angel wouldn’t do that to you.’_ The voice continued. 

Draco felt a lump in his throat. Oh yes, he did want to make love to Harry. That is exactly what he wanted. He didn’t want those quick one, two, three sessions snuck behind some door somewhere. He wanted a sweet and leisurely love-making so that he would be able to taste and savor every single spot on that boy’s body.

But...

_‘He’s not like her.’_ The voice spoke up again. Draco wished he could believe that.

“Where are you from?” Harry asked, seemingly not noticing the way the other boy was beginning to lag behind. Once again, Draco quickly speed up till he was a pace or two behind the other boy. Keeping the boy’s graceful and delectable ass in plain view even as he cursed himself for it. 

Clearing his throat in hopes the other boy wouldn’t notice the huskiness, Draco replied. “Bit of every where really.”

Harry’s eye brows rose questioningly. 

“My father owns Malfoy Enterprises.” Draco supplied, this time unable to keep the mockery out of his voice. “We used to move around quite a bit.”

“Used to?” The other boy echoed, waving at a dark-haired boy who had just pulled up across the street. Draco scowled while Harry wasn‘t looking. He didn’t like the way the boy was looking at them. 

_‘You mean looking at Harry.’_ Draco corrected. His scowl deepened. This was ridiculous. He was acting like an idiot. 

He’d only acted like an idiot once before and he wasn’t going to do it again. He’d learned how much it hurt you in the end. It always ended up hurting you in the end.

Draco started, realizing the other boy had stopped and was looking at him curiously. He flashed a cool smile.

“You okay?” Harry asked, eyes taking on a concerned glint.

Draco nodded, forcing himself to stay as calm as he possibly could. “I’m fine.” 

Harry gave him a penetrating look, eyes sweeping over his features minutely before he flashed a shy smile. “So, used to?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes. My father decided that he would be more effective, business-wise, if he stayed at the home office from now on.” Draco drawled, shoving his earlier thoughts to the side once again.

Now was not the time to drudge up ancient history. He’d done it enough in the past and he’d undoubtedly do it again but not here and not now.

“I see.” Harry responded, though his voice wavered enough to reveal that he didn’t ‘see’ at all but was still making an effort. 

Draco smiled. _‘So naïve. So perfect. God I want him.’_


	4. Chapter 4

**  
**

Chapter 4

Harry had never considered himself a graceful person. Point of fact, he had always felt to lanky and lean to actual contain anything other than a stumbling drawl to his steps. But, at the same time, he had never thought of himself as completely clumsy like, for instance, Regina Sprout’s employee, Neville Longbottom. 

The cherub faced boy had been in secondary school with Harry and there wasn’t a day that went by that the other boy hadn’t stumbled, fell or otherwise bumped into something causing a cacophony of noise and disaster. Not that Harry held it against the other boy. Neville was endearing, in his own way, but painfully clumsy. 

Which was why, Harry supposed, at this very moment he felt such a kinship with the other boy.

_‘Just one foot in front of the other, Harry._ ’ He told himself, carefully measuring his steps so he wouldn’t trip and fall. That was the last thing he needed to do. He didn’t think he could bear the embarrassment if he tripped.

Swallowing, Harry felt a flush rising up his cheeks that had more to do with his own self-awareness than of the afternoon heat. He wished he had worn one of his better tee shirt and jeans today. Not that any of his clothes were in a much better state than what he had on but there were was at least one pair of jeans that were a little _less_ faded out. 

Harry swallowed again, looking up at the other boy from under his lashes. 

_‘Sweet Merlin..._ ’ 

The blonde looked so...so...

Another flush crawled up his cheeks, making his cheeks burn. His jeans felt decidedly tight all of a sudden. Maybe the faded jeans **had** been a good choice for today...

Taking a deep breath, the dark haired boy hesitated, stopping a meter away from the blonde despite wanting to move closer. He didn’t want to get too close. Not until he got some control over his body. If the other boy saw...

Harry shifted on his feet, eyes looking over the other boy’s face slowly to buy himself time. 

He was completely unlike anyone Harry had every seen before: soft and deceptively delicate looking, almost like the porcelain dolls his Aunt Petunia collected. His skin reminded Harry of cream and the flush that now covered his face from the sun made the raven haired boy want to run his fingers over it to see if it was cool. His lips were thin, almost painted on, though the bottom was full, seeming to form into a natural pout. 

Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes pause there for a second. He’d never kissed another boy before, not really. Seamus didn’t count. They’d both been drunk and there lips had barely touched before Harry had stumbled drunkenly into the wall and had to sit down from dizziness. After that, each time the Irish boy had tried to instigate something, Harry had brushed him off. He wasn’t interested in him. 

In all truths, Harry had never much been interested in any boy in this town much less wanted to kiss any of them. 

But this boy, with hair so blonde and so satiny looking it made Harry’s palms itch to feel it, made him not only want to kiss another boy but literally feast on him. 

Harry shuddered faintly, fighting down a moan as he pushed his hands into his pockets. He wanted nothing more than to just pin the boy against the brick wall beside them and...and...and do whatever it was that his body was screaming at him to do even if he wasn’t sure he knew what that was.

The dark haired boy shifted again, watching as the other boy did the same. The way the boy’s clothes slide against his skin made a lump rise in Harry’s throat. He cleared his throat, smiling slightly as a flush stole across his cheeks again with the way the other boy jerked ever so gently at the sudden noise. 

_‘You can do this._ ’ He cheered himself, feeling a ball of tension roll inside him.

“You lost?” 

Harry pressed his hands against his legs within his pockets. No, that didn’t make him sound lame _at all..._

“Actually, I was fixing to go to the Leaky Cauldron.” The blonde murmured after a moment, his voice smooth as silk. 

Harry felt his insides quiver even as surprise shuttered through him. Sweet Merlin All Mighty, the boy’s voice was refined and sweet, a mixture of accents so faint that they all combined to make music. It was like listening to a choir of angels. 

**This** boy was going to the Cauldron?

“The mechanic told me there was a phone there...?” The blonde explained, answering Harry’s unasked question even as his voice lilted ever so slightly at the end showing just how much he believed the mechanic. 

Harry would have laughed if he wasn’t so nervous. That didn’t surprise him. The town mechanic was kind of -- well, no one tended to believe Justin, even on a good day. 

“Ah.” Harry finally murmured, eyes shifting to look down the walkway behind the blonde as he saw a car making it’s way down the road in the distance. It was Seamus. There was no mistaking that old piece of junk he drove even from this far away. 

He gave a small smile, eyes turning back to the blonde. This was his town; his home. He didn’t need to be so nervous. “Afraid the natives will bite, huh?”

Harry felt a thrill of pleasure shoot through him as the other boy began to laugh, a soft silvery sound that made him run hot and cold all at once. He hoped he could hear it again. Soon.

“You could say that.” The boy chuckled, the laughter and voice curling in the pit of Harry’s stomach.

Harry continued to smile, even as he felt goose bumps prickle his skin. He could listen to the other boy talk all day. All night. Hell, any time he liked because the more he talked the more Harry got little shock waves of pleasure shooting front his groin, to his stomach to his heart and then back again. 

God, the boy was even more radiant when he smiled. It made him literally glow in the sun shine. Even with the tiny amused smile that tilted his lips now...

Harry shuffled his feet. The boy reminded him of a Greek statue he’d once seen in one of the book’s Hermione had brought back after a summer vacation across Europe. He didn’t remember the name but the statue personified everything that this boy in front of him was.

“So...” Harry began again, suddenly realizing that’d lapped into silence and he’d been staring. Merlin, he wasn’t a little kid anymore. He should have known better than to just **stare**. 

He was probably making the other boy uncomfortable, if the way the blonde’s face seemed to be shifting into an expression Harry didn’t even pretend to understand. It was one that he’d seen on Ron’s face before when Hermione had worn her new bathing suit but...it was something else as well. Something that made Harry want to just do whatever the boy told him. 

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t going to think about it.

“So...” He began again, grimacing slightly when a piece of his hair fell onto his forehead to stick. It was to hot. Pulling a hand out of his pocket, he nervously ran it through his hair, making sure to keep some hair over his scarred forehead before continuing, “ Want some company to the Cauldron?”

Liquid pleasure shot through him as the boy’s smile grew. “I’d love some.”

Harry blushed, toes curling in his shoes. The other boy wanted company. And not just any company, he wanted Harry’s. 

“Follow me.”

Turning on his heels, Harry begin to walk slow and leisurely, being sure not to stumble and make a fool out of himself. 

_‘I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe he said “yes”. I can’t believe this is **real**.’ _ Harry babbled mentally, the knot in his stomach loosening minutely. The other boy wasn’t going to just disappear. _‘Stay cool, Harry. Just, stay cool.’_

Harry glanced over, realizing the other boy was just starting to walk by his side. He slowed down. Jesus, here he was walking like the very devil was after him and he all but left the blonde behind! 

The blonde flashed him another smile. “Sorry, it’s just so hot.”

Harry felt a sigh of relief spring to his lips as he flashed his own smile and rolled his shoulders. 

“It’s always like this, this time of year. It’s not so bad when you get used to it.” He said, pushing his glasses up his nose from where they had slide. 

And that was true. Over the years, Harry had become more than accustomed to the warm weather the small town supplied in full every year without fail. Most people were accustomed to it and like most anyone who lived in a warm climate would tell you, all you had to do was know how to beat the heat to be used to it. Stay in the shade, drink lots of water and a keeping a fan around wasn’t such a bad idea. Those were some of the reasons most of the locals ended up at the Leaky Cauldron this time of day.

Despite the amenities the town had, most of the people there were simple farmers and didn’t own air conditioning units much less fans. The Cauldron was a welcome retreat on a hot day, serving cold drinks, cool air and good food. Everyone loved it there.

“How long have you lived here?” 

Harry had to fight the urge to stop in surprise. Not that it was in some way an odd question, after all, people asked you about where you lived or whatnot every day but, somehow, the way the other boy asked the question, as if Harry’s question was the answer to a puzzle, made him feel uncomfortable.

The dark haired boy felt his lips tighten. It wasn’t an intimate question. It was simple. It didn’t feel simple though. It wasn’t simple to answer. Not for Harry, anyway. He wanted to just tell the blonde his whole life story in one go and that was disturbing. Not even Ron’s mother, Molly, so much like a mother to Harry knew all of Harry’s past. She never really asked, not wanting to upset him and Hermione and Ron...

They knew the story but never brought it up. They knew his suspicions and his worries but they **never** brought it up unless he did. So, why, now, did he want to tell this complete stranger -- everything?

“You don’t have to answer that if you --” The blonde began and Harry blinked, quickly cutting of the boy.

“No, no sorry.” Harry said, mentally wanting to punch himself. “I was just thinking. I’ve lived here most of my life.”

_‘There, that sounded -- all right._ ’ 

He knew it wasn’t though. He could feel the other boy’s eyes on him even as he ignored them. What a time to dwell on things that couldn’t be changed. On things that he didn’t even know were true or not...

The two of them continued on in silence. Harry wanted to slap himself. How could he let his own bitterness make things uncomfortable between them? He was just beginning to relax!

“Where are you from?” Harry asked. It was a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation but it was an attempt. He glanced over at the other boy, feeling the way the blonde speed up to match his stride with the question.

“Bit of everywhere really.” He supplied. Okay, that was a start. Harry raised an eyebrow.

The blonde’s lips twisted. “My father owns Malfoy Enterprises.” His voice hardening. “We used to move around quite a bit.” 

Harry’s eyes shifted away from the blonde, instead settling on the beaten down junk heap of a car Seamus had just pulled in across the street in front of a supply store. Harry waved.

“Used to?” 

Harry smiled faintly as his friend waved from across the street, giving both Harry and the boy next to him a pointed look before slipping inside the store. Harry blushed, though he wasn’t sure why. The way Seamus had looked at them made him feel -- he blushed some more.

After a moment, he glanced over, wanting to see if the blonde had caught the look when he suddenly realized the boy had stopped. He turned and swallowed -- hard.

The look on the blonde’s face was one he knew he’d worn a million times before just after a frightening realization or -- nightmare. It was one the screamed that whatever it was the boy had seen had horrified him.

_‘I hate you Seamus!’_ Harry growled mentally, cursing his friend six ways from Sunday. Obviously the boy had seen the look and whatever it had meant had upset him. 

“You okay?” He asked after a moment. He was concerned. He was. The boy looked even paler than he had to begin with but even so, Harry wished he could break away and go give Seamus a good swift kick where the sun didn’t shine.

The blonde blinked, jerking. “I’m fine.” 

Harry’s eyes narrowed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the boy was lying. He still looked shaken up but Harry wasn’t going to push it. “So, used to?”

“Hm?” The blonde hummed distractedly, blinking again. “Oh. Yes. My father decided that he would be more effective, business-wise, if he stayed at the home office from now on.” 

Harry chewed the inside of his lip. That made sense but the way the blonde said it didn’t. He acted as though nothing at all had happened just then. That he hadn’t been upset moments before.

“I see.” Harry said, even though, he really just didn’t see at all. What had upset the blonde so? 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Draco had often heard an expression about the ‘idle rich’. How the woman lazed about all day, flirting and pampering themselves while the men went and tempted fate by doing one death defying thing after another. Draco had often wondered if he fit into that category. After all, he had spent most of his young life drifting from club to club, party to party till all of it began to blur into one long session of sex, music, drinks and more sex. 

But, still, Draco still wondered if that qualified him. After all, that stereotype only held true for the nouveaux riches, whom were so busy being dazzled by their own wealth they couldn’t see past the nose on their faces without dropping a ribbon of bills. And, nouveaux riches the Malfoy’s most certainly weren’t. 

Though it was true that most of his families fortune had been made by his father, Lucius, who was the president and founder of Malfoy Enterprises, a subsidiary of Voldemort Industries, the Malfoy’s still had a hefty amount of money made by his grandfather and great-grandfather. Both of which, had bequeathed their money to their heir of choice. In his great-grandfather’s case, it was his son, Draco’s grandfather, and in his grandfather’s case, he had left his small fortune to Draco. Much to the disgust of his own father. 

But that was the draw of the hand and Draco took great pleasure in rubbing that in his father’s face. Every time the man threatened to write him out of his will, Draco simply had to mention his grandfather and the discussion would be over. Draco was, after all, no slouch in the business arena and could, with the aid of his inheritance, easily rival his father in just a little inside of a year. 

As it was, in the last year alone, the blonde had made enough money in the stock market that, should he choose to open Draco Enterprises, he could do it with an easy that his father had never had. Despite the man being a sharp book keeper and even smarter weasel, Malfoy Ent. had not paid taxes in nearly twelve years, the elder Malfoy knew nil to nothing about business. That was left up to his “supposed” partners, Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr., both of which were to dumb to notice his father was sucking them dry and using them long enough before he could swoop in last minute to close the deal. 

Draco, on the other hand, knew all about making connections and talking to the right people. He’d been doing it since the day he was born; following in his grandfather’s footsteps. His father wouldn’t and couldn’t stand a chance. But, despite the success beckoning, the blonde hadn’t put any real decisive plans into action. He was still making certain important connections to ensure his father and anyone else who would try to rival him, didn’t stand a chance. 

Which why, he thanked, was the reason he was walking in a companionable silence next to one of the most delectable young men he’d ever seen instead of sitting behind a desk in some high rise building in Hogsmeade. 

‘ _Thank Merlin_.’ He thought, licking his lips as he watched the tanned boy walking just a step or two in front of him once again push his glasses up his nose with one perfectly long finger. 

Draco sighed, images of wrapping his lips around that one perfect digit and sucking on it as if it were an ice pop entering his mind in a haze. All the things he could do to the boy. All the things that he could show him...

“Dammit.” Draco hissed quietly, clenching his fingers together. The heat was getting to him. Every time he began to think, his thoughts always came back to doing something to this boy.

“...did you say?”

“What?” Draco asked, startled. He hadn’t said any of that out loud, had he?

Harry frowned, glancing over his shoulder at Draco even as he slowed his movements. “I said, what did you say?”

Draco blinked, licking his lips again. Harry looked -- adorable -- with his forehead crinkled like that. “It’s just hot, is all.”

Harry shook his head, frown disappearing into a teasing smile. “To hot for you, city-boy?” 

Draco’s heart tripped. Fuck, if only the boy knew. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not a country bumpkin like you, all sunshine and...sunshine.” He replied smoothly. It wasn’t his best response, wasn’t his wittiest but it was all he could say to keep from grabbing the boy and showing him just how hot he could get. 

Harry laughed, smile widening and eyes twinkling. Draco wanted to groan, he could feel himself twitching inside his khakis every time the boy laughed. Hell, every time the boy breathed it was like an electric jolt straight down to groin.

“C’mon, city-boy, we’re not that far and I promise to buy you a nice cold drink to cool you off.” The raven haired boy promised, giving the blonde another shyly pleased smile. 

Draco nodded, biting his tongue fiercely as he felt himself twitch again. This boy was going to make him do something in his pants he hadn’t done since he was in grade-school! 

Hurrying along the side-walk with a smooth glide that belied the problem he was currently suffering, Draco couldn’t help but feel a thrill on anticipation. Okay, so the boy was just buying him a drink to make sure he didn’t wither and fade in this god forsaken heat but it was still drinks -- together.

_‘And you know what that means_.’ The blonde thought. Yes, he did. Most of his partners over the years had been won over just by having a drink with him. Even if it was just a sip in a club while he whispered to them all the talents he was gifted with or during a smoky session as he seduced one of the sons or daughters of one of the people he needed connections with, they were always his in the end. 

“Hey.” 

Draco twitched. “Yes?”

Harry’s laughter was like butterflies in the blonde’s stomach. “I don’t know your name.” 

Draco swallowed, smiling coyly as he could at the other boy. “You never asked.”

Harry laughed again. Oh sweet fucking Merlin. 

“What’s your name?”

“Draco, Draco Malfoy.” 

The other boy’s smile made Draco pray ferociously that the Leaky Cauldron was close.

“Draco Malfoy.” Harry repeated, as if he were tasting it on his tongue. Draco curled his fingers tightly. “Nice, I like it.”

The blonde gave a tight smile in thanks.

‘ _This god damn bar better have a private bathroom_.’ He thought, biting his tongue again. Because he knew, if the bar did, as soon as he was able to spare a few minutes away from the other boy he was going to be in that tiny stale, pants around his ankle, head thrown back, jerking off to the memory of those lips saying his name.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

In the decades that the Leaky Cauldron had been established in the small town of Little Whinging, it had changed very little. It was still the demure and homey looking place it had been since the day it had opened. The door was always a rounded sturdy oak, worn down to dull after years of use and it was, essentially, still just a hole in the wall that people could come to when they wanted good food, good drink and good conversation.

A perfect place for a small town. Which was why, Harry supposed, he liked it so much. Despite longing for the glitz and glamour that was in Hogsmeade, a part of him, one that he couldn’t help but acknowledge every time he went to the Cauldron, harbored a great fondness for the place and it’s owner Tom. Perhaps, because it was the only place within the town as a whole that Harry felt at home in.

“Not much to look at, is it?” 

Harry smiled easily at the other boy, a strange calm washing over him to fade away his nervousness. The Cauldron always had that affect on him. He wasn’t sure why, but it did. 

“It gets better.” Harry assured, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear even as he moved towards the dull oak door, a wooden hanging over the embossed with, now, faded golden letters that spelled out ’The Leaky Cauldron’ with a depiction of a large bulbous cauldron with a crack in it’s bottom just beneath. 

The blonde cocked his head, licking his lips and shrugged. “If you say so.”

The farm-town boy smiled again, his stomach clenching as he watched the hint of the blonde’s tongue slip back between his lips. He flushed. “I do.” 

Harry self-consciously gave a boyish smile, stopping mere inches away from the entrance to the tavern. “Trust me.” 

Draco stopped as well, his reflective sunglasses trained on Harry as he shifted on his feet. His face was twisted into an expression that Harry wasn’t sure he could place, almost as if he wasn’t sure if Harry was joking or not. 

A bead of sweat trickled down Harry’s spine. Did Draco suddenly look a little paler than he had a moment ago? Harry frowned. 

“Are you all right?” He asked, brow crinkling in concern. Maybe the heat was really getting to the blonde. Even if Harry had teased him about being a city boy, he didn’t look well at all. “Draco, are you--” He began again but was cut off.

“I do.”

Harry blinked. “You do?”

“I mean,” The blonde cleared his throat, flashing a smile that made Harry’s stomach do a strange flip and his heart thump in his chest while he wished he could just adjust himself in his jeans. “I’m fine.”

Harry caught his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. The blonde looked fine now or, at least, was starting to but he hadn‘t moments ago. 

‘ _What did I say_?’ The bespectacled boy thought, trying to study the boys features from beneath his lashed. _‘All I said was trust me...’_

“Come on, bumpkin, don’t just stand there. Impress me.” Draco teased after a moment, his lapse all but forgotten in his voice if not his face. 

Harry gave a small smile at the nickname. The blonde was trying to distract him. That was obvious enough but he wasn’t that easily swayed. Ron had always said Harry was like a scent dog, hunting down the bits and pieces till he found what he was looking for. But, he couldn’t force the blonde to tell him, they had just met after all. 

“Watch it, city-boy.” Harry supplied lamely, allowing himself to be lured away from his train of thought. He’d wonder about it later. Preferably when he was laying in bed in his flat, window open to help with the heat and clothes off. “Talk like that could get you into a mess of trouble.”

“A mess of--” Draco began to repeat before sputtering with laughter. Harry grinned. 

Talking to this boy was like riding a roller coaster. Or, that’s what Harry supposed since he’d never actually ridden one. He’d heard all about them from Hermione though and, if he ever imagined what it’d be like, having a conversation and trying to puzzle this boy out would be what it was like. One minute you were laughing and joking and the next you were trying to work out his inner secrets. It was almost dizzying. 

“C’mon, city-boy.” Harry said, once Draco’s laughter had died down to light chuckles. “We need to get out of the sun before we bake.”

Draco nodded, the corners of his lips upturned into a semblance of an amused smile. “Go ahead, impress me.”

“You asked for it.” The raven hair boy supplied, turning back to the Cauldron’s door, grabbing the brass door knob and turning it. He let the door swing open with a flourish. “After you.”

The blonde’s mouth twitched, he moved forward, body momentarily pressing against Harry’s own before he glided past. “Thank you.”

Harry swallowed. Sweet Merlin, he needed a cold drink. A very cold drink. And, maybe, a few minutes alone in the bathroom while he tried to adjust his hard on to a less obvious position.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It had been, quite literally, years since Draco had been in a bar, or building even, that wasn’t on Hogsmeade’s A-list in society. In his misspent youth, he’d traveled from club to club, designer store to designer store for his needs, all the while setting the trend for what was popular. After all, Draco **was** a Malfoy and since Lucius Malfoy owned half the city, all it’s newspapers and quite a few of it’s bank chains, well--Draco could easily sway the general public. All he had to do was put in a quiet word to one gossip mongrel about how he wasn’t going to that club or store anymore and the word spread like wildfire, whatever it was would soon be out of business.

Another reason why most business owners quite literally catered to Draco’s every need; no matter how wild or outlandish it was. Draco **made** the place. Even after an entire year of reforming himself into a respectable force to be reckoned with, the trend followed him. Young elite men and women were trying their best to follow in Draco’s footsteps, leaving black leather and mesh behind, something that he had favored during those years, in favor of tailored slacks and business suits. It was amusing in a irritating kind of way. At least, to Draco.

But now, the blonde had to wonder if all those clubs, stores and restaurants all had the wrong idea. Maybe catering just to the elite customers was the wrong thing to do. Maybe, just maybe, it should be the customers catering to the place with the workers catering to every customer. 

“Impressed?” A warmly pleased voice curled into his ear, the distinct feel of his companions body heat slamming into his already warmed back. Draco swallowed a moan, nodding slowly as he reached up to pull off his sun-glasses. 

The rich homely interior of The Leaky Cauldron wasn’t at all what the blonde had expected. Deeply rich mahogany glistened somewhat in the dim lighting; brass buttons and soft down leather covered bar stools, booth seats, and individual chairs. Aged wood made the makings of a breath taking display as the pieces ran together in the floor, an odd light and dark pattern there after years of wear. 

Booths lined the far side of the room, only separated with a partition of wood and blown glass with tables snugly fit into each alcove. Practical supple wood tables were scattered here and there in the in-between, single vintage italian-style candles shinned in the middle, wax dripping down the bottle sides; four sturdy chairs were pushed by each side. In the back, the blonde could just make out another alcove, almost completely obscured, that he could only guess held a pool table and, more than likely, a dart board. 

But all this paled in comparison to the bar. The bar that was closest to Draco that even now made him want to saddle down, order a drink and just -- relax. Set into the wall closest to the door, it’s worn top still glistened and it’s brass railing made his finger’s want to run over the smooth surface. Just behind there were the old spickets for ale and behind that, an inset held a variety of bottles. An aged mirror, one that had to be more than a hundred years old, ran along it’s length with soft lighting surrounding it. 

Draco was in awe. He’d never seen the like of this. He would have thought he had stepped back in time if it wasn’t for the modern dressed patrons scattered around and the warm tantalizing presence behind him, that he, even now, was acutely aware of..

A warm chuckled sent vibrations of pleasure down his spine. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Draco turned, folding and clipping his sunglasses into the front of button down to hang as he looked at the other boy with wide silver eyes. Harry’s face shinned with quiet amusement, emerald eyes sparkling with pleasure. He looked like a god. 

“This is--” Draco trailed. He wasn’t exactly sure what to call this. Sure, it wasn’t one of the places he would usually pick but it was utterly charming, reminding him of a bistro he had once been to while traveling across Europe. The place had an old world charm, something that Draco, secretly, held very close to his heart. 

The raven haired boy chuckled again, a pleased smile crossing his lips that went straight to the blonde’s libido, which hadn‘t cooled at all during his inspection. “I told you. I love this place.” Harry grinned impishly. “It feels like home.”

Draco nodded. Yes, it did. It felt even more like home than his mansion did, which now seemed so cold, large and uninviting compared to this warm nook. How could he expect to drag Harry to that place? The boy deserved to feel comfortable and at ease, something which Draco wasn’t sure he’d feel in the large Malfoy ancestral home. 

Draco flexed his fingers. ’ _There’s nothing you can do about it now. And, anyway, if you’re worried about it, just take him to the penthouse._ ’ A voice spoke up in the back of his mind, reminding him almost painfully that all he wanted to do was get this boy somewhere remotely private so he could fuck him into oblivion and suck him dry. 

“So,” he began, hesitating briefly as he licked his lips. Harry’s impish smile was still in place and it was slowly undoing him. He could feel himself twitching spastically in his khakis. Fuck, he was going to explode.

“So.” Harry repeated teasingly, head cocking to the side as he rested his hands lightly on his hips. “ I believe I said something about getting you a cold drink, hm?”

Draco opened his mouth, the words _‘I’d much rather you cool me off’_ on his tongue before he forced them back, smiling beatifically. “I believe you mentioned something to that effect, yes.”

Harry grinned, bouncing on his heels. 

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint you then, city-boy. C’mon.” He said, pressing so close to Draco’s side the blonde could smell the sweet scent of sweat, musk and something uniquely Harry as he brushed by. 

Draco groaned silently. His cock felt like it was on fire and if he got any harder he was sure it would rip through the seam in his pants. _‘Merlin, have mercy, please let there be a private bathroom around here._ ’ He pleaded. 

Turning again, he followed the boy silently, his gait slightly stiffened. The khaki from his jeans was like an almost pleasurable torture as it rubbed against him with each step. It didn’t help his condition at all that Harry’s tee-shirt had somehow hiked up his back and showed a delicious expansion of tanned skin pulled over a feline spine. Fuck.

Harry threw a smile over his shoulder at him as he reached the bar side. “Want anything in particular?”

Draco felt a surprisingly genuine smile curve his lips in return. Not that it was surprising since, it seemed, not only was Harry turning him into a perpetually walking hard on but also, a genuine one at that. Hoping his voice wasn’t to husky, he replied. “Anything, really. Just nothing fruity.” 

He crinkled his nose at the thought. The last time he had let someone coerce him into a drink, the girl--whatever her name was, he couldn’t remember now--had brought him back a lime green drink with bobbing fruit in it. Not so bad, really, until you took the first sip of it. Laced with so much alcohol it had left Draco with so much of a hang over that it had turned him off of fruity drinks for quite some time.

Harry laughed. “Nothing fruity, check.” He turned back to the bartender, a gnarled gray-haired old man that had appeared sometime during the question and answer and leaned forward revealing even more of that curving spine and lush skin. 

Draco shifted, clamping his thighs together to stave off the orgasm that was beckoning. Fuck, he needed the bathroom and he needed it now. He cleared his throat, flashing a smile as Harry turned back to him.

“Bathroom?”

Harry laughed softly again, a smile creasing his lips. “That way.” He said pointing towards the back. “First door on the left.”

Draco nodded, giving a smile of thanks as he turned and hurried past the few patrons that were looking at him curiously. He could feel their eyes on him as he tried to calmly walk towards the bathroom while keeping a cool smile on his face. It really wasn’t working. All he could see was the golden skin of Harry’s back sweat flushed. 

Was that what it would look like with Harry on all fours before him, back arching as Draco pounded into him? 

The blonde swallowed, hurrying his steps. He could see, just beyond the alcove that held the pool table and darts, as he had predicted, a narrow hallway. There was no sign outside the door that labeled it as the bathroom but that’s what it quite obviously was since one man strolled out of it casually, running a comb through his hair.

Draco glanced over his shoulder, Harry was sitting on a bar stool, speaking quietly to the bartender. As if feeling the blonde’s eyes on him, Harry’s eyes shifted to his and he gave a tiny smile, a small blush creeping up his cheeks. 

Draco bolted into the bathroom, all but slamming the door behind him. Dropping the lock into place, the blonde slumped against the worn door. Sweet fucking Merlin!

Letting his eyelids droop, Draco moaned quietly, images of his hands on that skin dancing behind his lids. He mouth watered. God, all the ways he could suck, nip and mar that skin with marks that showed that Harry was **his** and **his alone**.

Groaning, Draco hastily dropped his hands to his khakis, unbuttoning and unzipping them before he could even draw in a complete breath. Pushing down the fabric, Draco shoved a hand into the silk green fabric of his bikini underwear and squeezed himself fiercely to push away the orgasm that was threatening. He groaned again in protest, biting his lower lip. 

Already there was a wet spot on his silk underwear, he couldn’t afford to have himself come in his pants. Pulling his hand shakily from inside the fabric, Draco slowly pushed it down his thighs till it hung around his knees with his pants. Lifting his hands and letting his head fall back against the door, he closed his eyes and ran his fingers over his toned stomach, till the fabric of his shirt was pushed beneath his arms, snugly out of the wall. 

Opening his eyes, Draco tilted his head forward, eyes lighting on his own problem. Aching red and bobbing free in the air, his erection stood proudly in a tuft of wiry dirty blonde curls. He groaned. Fucking hell. 

Bracing his feet apart, the blonde let one hand trail down his chest, tweaking a nipple before sliding down the planes of his stomach. If only Harry was doing this to him. If only Harry was here, on his knees, grinning saucily up at him as he leaned forward to lick and suck on him.

A soft keening noise came from deep within his throat. Pressing his other hand flush against his chest just over one of his nipples, he rubbed, hesitating briefly to tug at the blonde curls around his cock. He hissed. 

He tugged again, moaning. Thank god the door was made of thick wood or otherwise those people outside were going to hear quite a show. Tangling his fingers into the hair, Draco sighed as his hand finally wrapped around his straining erection.

“Fuck.” Draco hissed, squeezing his eyes closed as he tightened his hold. He could just see Harry now, beautiful angelic face misted over with pleasure as Draco did what he was doing now to himself to him. What would he sound like? Would he be quiet? Loud?

“Harry...” The blonde moaned, starting to pump his hand slowly. His cock twitched and jumped within his hand. How he wished he could spend more time here but he didn’t have the luxury. The fantasy come reality angel was outside waiting for him. 

Opening his eyes and training them on his hands. He speed his pace, eyes misting over with images of Harry on the floor in front of him, mouth wrapped around his dick; Harry’s body flushed, face twisting as Draco pumped him, licked him. Harry leaning against the pillows on his bed, playing with himself. Harry on all fours, ass in the air, waiting for Draco to pound him. Harry spread out beneath him, legs wrapped around Draco’s waist as he fucked him hard and fast. Harry, Harry, Harry...

Draco stuffed a fist into his mouth, a strangled scream escaping from his throat as he felt his balls draw up, he‘d been waiting so long, he wasn‘t going to last long. He pumped faster, squeezing and releasing his erection as he felt the familiar warmth spread in his balls, stomach and chest. His body jerked, slapping quietly against the wooden door as warm jets of come streamed from his weeping cock to splatter against the top of his things and abs. 

“Harry.” Draco croaked, fist falling to his side as he squeezed the door knob in his hands for support, head pressing back against the door. His hand on his cock continued to squeeze and milk the last of his orgasm from him, come still splattering against him. It seemed to go on forever. 

“Ah.” He whimpered, his cock finally beginning to soften from the living steel it had been moments ago. Sweat from his exertion began to cool as his back pressed against the cool wood behind him as he lazily pumped his cock, once, twice, three times till it was soft enough to let go. 

He uncurled his fist, letting it drop to his side. Panting, he looked up at the ceiling. Fuck, it had never been that good before. Never. 

‘ _And you haven’t even touched him yet..._ ’ He thought with a weak chuckle. If it was one fourth as good, which Draco had no doubts it would be, he might not live through it when he finally fucked the boy. 

_‘God, I’ve got it bad.’_ He thought, pushing himself off the door and shuffling forward carefully, minding not to trip over his pants or let his shirt fall, towards the sink and toilet. 

Reaching out to the roll of toilet paper, he quickly tore off a wad and began wiping off his stomach and thighs. He gave another weak chuckle. At least now he didn’t have to worry about embarrassing himself in front of the other boy. 

Throwing the soiled tissue into the toilet, Draco leaned over and flushed before leaning forward to turn on the faucet. Leaning over, Draco quickly washed his hands, shaking them dry before reaching down to pull up his bikini underwear and pants. His hissed as his over sensitized fleshed rubbed against the silk before sighing. Buttoning and zipping himself, the blonde glanced at the mirror.

His cheeks had rosy spots of color and his mouth was open as he panted softly; his hair was mused from pressing it again the door. God, he couldn’t go out there looking like this. Lifting his arms and letting his shirt drop, Draco leaned forward and splashed some water on his face and ran a wet hand over the back of his neck. 

He could already feel himself calming down, his racing heart was slowing to a normal beat and the after-glow was relaxing his muscles in such a way that he almost felt like his normal self. Almost. 

Sighing, he stood up, using a wet hand to scrub his face and run through his hair. There, he looked better. Switching off the faucet, he leaned forward to snatch some brown paper towels from off the back of the sink and patting his face and hand dry.

Dropping those into the trash, he stepped back, one hand coming up to run through his hair again. Straightening himself, he stared at his reflection. He didn’t look half bad. The glowing flush made his skin seem softer and his eyes stand out. He smiled. 

Taking a deep breath, he turned to the door. Time to get back to the angel waiting for him.


End file.
